


Brave coward

by daniel_lugo



Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:37:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22331725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daniel_lugo/pseuds/daniel_lugo
Summary: And what if Gibson had survive?
Relationships: Gibson/Tommy (Dunkirk)
Kudos: 3





	Brave coward

There was nothing left to do. Even though they were trying to plug the numerous holes drilled by the Nazi planes, the damage had become too severe for them to be able to save the boat. They had to leave this ship as soon as possible. Gibson was still trying to save the wreckage whereas almost all the others had already exited the flooded hold. Alex pushed Tommy down the stairs before violently grabbing Gibson by his shoulders, shouting “Hurry up!”. His understanding of the English language was not yet sufficient although he spent the last week with British soldiers, but it did not take him any longer to understand that it was time to leave. He let Alex pass before following him. When he attempted to climb the small staircase leading out of the hold, he quickly realized that he was being held by something that refused to let him go. He was trying to pull forward with all his might, but his fingers could not even touch the wooden staircase. Gibson wanted to yell at help, but the water was already flooding him, covering his mouth and nose. Although his heart was beating too fast he was still trying to push the ground with his feet, but his boots were just sliding on the soaked surface. His arms continued to fight in the water, but all the gestures he made were vain.  
The more he panicked, the more his energy diminished. With his mouth wide open, he swallowed litres of saltwater that burned his oesophagus. His lungs were longing for air and they were hurting him so much that he felt that they could blow up at any moment. Soon, he no longer had the strength to try to reach the stairs. He faced reality. He was stuck and the others hadn’t realize he was gone. After all, who would risk his life to save a poor French soldier who had left his army to escape the atrocities of Dunkirk? Nobody.

With his eyes still wide open, he saw only the darkness of the hold, the wooden crates and other objects that began to float slowly around him. In his mind, he was reliving the last months of his young life in one second. He saw himself joining the ranks of the French army because he wanted Hitler’s madness to stop. He saw the tears on his mother’s face when he told her his decision. He saw his comrades who had fallen in battle under the murderous fire of the Krauts. Then Dunkirk and his unreasonable madness. The beach, the corpse of the British soldier and Tommy. Tommy clinging to him under the dock while waiting for another chance to get off this cursed beach. Tommy who gave him a flask of water. Tommy who smiled at him. Tommy to whom he threw a rope in the water so that he could follow the boat. Tommy defending him against Alex who was willing to throw him in the water to save his other comrades. Gibson closed his eyes and let his arms float in the water. Suddenly he felt something pull his clothes behind his back, but he was too lethargic to do anything. Soon, a mysterious force propelled him forward and the next second he felt his nostrils and mouth released from the hold of the water. He opened his eyes abruptly before spitting out a good cup of water and taking a deep breath. He was still in the water, but he was out of the boat. At a metre of him was Tommy swimming to another boat that was quite far away, but seemed to be coming in their direction. Closer to them, there was a huge ship that didn’t seem to be in good shape. Despite his blatant lack of vitality, Gibson noticed several men jumping overboard while the boat was leaning at an odd angle.

Come on ya French piece of shit! Follow him! This is the last time I’m gonna babysit ya!

Gibson immediately recognized Alex’s voice despite his clogged ears and the numerous noises surrounding it. He was right behind him and was glaring at him. The same look he had given him fifteen minutes earlier. Instinctively, utterly stunned, Gibson began to swim in the same direction as Tommy while other soldiers did the same. All seemed to want to embark the white boat which was floating slowly like a mirage in the middle of all this hell. With his face smeared with black oil and his breath running, Gibson was swimming as fast as he could. Although he did not dare to look at the ship that was sinking several metres from him, the noises he heard did not bode well. Gibson, Tommy, Alex and some other lucky men were taken aboard the new ship, which was already full to capacity before an explosion struck the oily sea. A powerful fire originated above the water, a spectacle that was amazing and terrifying at the same time. The cries of those who found themselves prisoners of this infernal blaze reached them without difficulty and Gibson felt immense pity. However, they did not have time to see any more since they were led into the hold by a young blond man who told the soldiers where to stand. The journey to the marina was made in silence. The men were tired, soaked, dirty and completely overwhelmed by the events. Sitting between Alex and Tommy, Gibson took advantage of their body heat to warm up a bit. He could not believe that he had finally managed to escape from Dunkirk. He had often been close to death during the past week, but he had managed to survive in spite of everything and felt more than lucky.

It was already dark when the boat stopped at the port. One by one, the soldiers came out of the ship thanking the men who had saved them with a word or a meaningful gesture. As usual, Gibson followed Tommy and Alex closely. «Stay here with them» said Alex pointing at the man of fifty years and the youngest. Unsure of what Alex meant, Gibson looked at Tommy. The latter shook his head. “Sorry but I have to disagree” “What the fuck are you telling me? He has to go, he’s French for god’s sake!” said Alex in half voice. “Of course, but then, back in France, what is going to occur for him?” “Why the hell would I care? I’m just not staying with him.” He saved our arse several times Alex… don’t forget that, we could a minimum grateful towards him.” “Again, I do not understand you, lately we were the last to save him. He chose to abandon his army, he’s a defector bloody hell! He’s now the only responsible, I’m no more in charge of that faggot…” Gibson’s eyes alternated between the two soldiers. He knew (or at least strongly suspected) that they were talking about him and about what would happen to him. If Alex’s voice was filled with frustration and anger, Tommy’s voice remained calm and compassionate. The latter wouldn’t take his eyes off Gibson like he was waiting for him to say something.

Although he was unable to take part in this conversation, Gibson knew that he could not return to France. At least not until the war was over. He categorically refused to be forced to live under the Vichy regime which he did not tolerate. He could join the Resistance, but given his deserter status, Gibson wasn’t sure he was welcome. For the moment, his name must have been on the list of missing soldiers, which put him in a safe position, but he didn’t know what his future would be if he returned to France. Despite his choice to leave early from Dunkirk, his real place was in the French army. He had left only because he had been afraid, because he had been tired of waiting for the English to come and save them in their turn. The men had the mission to hold the city against the Germans while the British were being rescued by Winston Churchill, but Gibson had failed. He still intended to continue to fight. He made a solemn promise never to falter again. If he had survived the horror of Dunkirk, he was able to survive anything else. He was convinced of that. “Gibson… What’s your proposal?” asked Tommy in a calm voice. “Do you want to be one of us or you wish to go back with them?” His index finger pointed at the man on the ship and his son, who were watching the soldiers still coming out of the hold. “He does not get a word of what you are saying actually. Forget about it, we are about to miss the train.” Alex put his arm around Tommy’s shoulders before dragging him in the opposite direction. Although he was held by his friend, Tommy looked over his shoulder.

Gibson remained motionless among the crowd of young veterans who were all heading to the train. His heart was torn between the option of following Tommy or starting from scratch by returning to his home country. If he went back to France, he knew that he would not be able to see his mother again anytime soon and that he would have to hide. If he continued the war, it would be with the English, who would never know his true identity and who would take him for a mute man. That was in the case where Alex and Tommy agreed to preserve his nationality until the very end. It was only when he no longer saw his two usual companions that Gibson ran to join them. Passing the stage of the various kiosks that offered objects, food or water, he zigzagged among the crowd until he managed to spot the two young men. He stepped between them before passing one arm around Tommy’s shoulders and the other around Alex’s shoulders with a smile. Surprised, the other two glanced at him. “You made the good choice brother.” Tommy smiled at him. Alex didn’t seem as happy as his mate. “As I told you, I won’t play the nanny another time.” he mumbled between his teeth. Although he did not quite understand what Alex had just said, Gibson laughed. He released his two friends. They lined up after the other soldiers to board the passenger train that was waiting for them. Once inside, they chose one of the many closed cabins where they let themselves fall on the comfortable benches. Tommy settled down to sleep upright in a foetal position, with his head resting against his rolled blanket. Alex turned his head to the window and Gibson gave a little sigh of relief.

A few minutes later, the train started. Gibson was lulled by this land transport. He had forgotten the feeling of safety that one could experience in such a vehicle. For once, he was not pitching on a ship that was being roughed up by stormy white water and threatened to be bombarded or destroyed by a vicious enemy torpedo. For once, he could breathe without being afraid of losing breath at any moment. For once, he could close his eyes and let himself be transported to the unknown. He fell asleep before he knew it. The silence, comfort, warmth and safety in which he was bathed had finally overcome him as well as the fatigue and physical and emotional exhaustion. He was awakened in the early morning by sunbeams. The train was going on its way and the exterior decor had completely changed. Gibson smiled when he saw all the greenery on the other side of the window. It seemed so radiant, so alive and so bright that it made his heart warm. It was a change from Dunkirk and his sad, colourless beach with his frightened-faced men.

Splendid, isn’t it? asked Tommy who was smiling too. Gibson’s smile widened. He took a quick look at Alex who was still asleep, his face leaning against the window. “I’m happy you joined us. I’m sure we can trust you and you can trust us. Don’t pay too much attention to Alex.” Again, Gibson didn’t grasp all the words that came out of Tommy’s mouth, but he suspected it was something positive. In return, he nodded. - Thank you, he mispronounced. A few minutes later, the train stopped in an almost deserted place. Two boys seemed to be carrying crates of vegetables right next to the window in the three friends' compartment. Alex called out the kids and got a newspaper. Tommy read a text that seemed to be addressed to the population, which concerned the fighting that had taken place in Dunkirk. Although Gibson understood only one name and a word or two, the expression of the other two seemed to say a lot about these news. He looked at Alex and Tommy in turn, but he read only fatigue in their eyes. "We will fight till the end. " The train started again and the silence was back in the cabin. Alex and Tommy were glad to look outside while Gibson leafed through the newspaper looking for news about France or something else to know about. He found one or two articles, but he couldn’t figure out what they were, which was pretty frustrating. He was going to have to make an effort to take over English. At least understand it because he couldn’t speak it. If he uttered a word in Shakespeare’s language, he would be immediately betrayed by his accent, but understanding would already be important in his case.

About two hours later, the train began to slow down. Soon, they saw unknown faces outside. They had just arrived at a station. As the train lost speed, people seemed to want to get closer to the windows. They all had a smile on their lips and many of them warmly applauded the arrival of the veterans of Dunkirk. Some even came to knock gently against the window hoping to greet the British heroes. The three friends exchanged a look, uncertain of what all this meant. When a man ran to the window of their cabin to offer them beer bottles and fruits, Alex did not hesitate for a second to seize this booty. "Thank you sir! " he exclaimed to the man before distributing the  
gifts to his comrades. The three of them began to smile, gratifying the passers-by who continued to flock to the windows with a hand sign. They looked so happy and so grateful that Gibson was certain that these people had been misinformed. In his view, Dunkirk had been a disaster on every level for the Allies. Not only did they lose ground, but they also lost a lot of men waiting for help. Not to mention his French companions who were still prisoners of this terrible city…

A shudder ran through his spine at this thought. While he had the leisure and the luxury of being warm on a train with people who welcomed him as a hero, his brothers in arms were still in Dunkirk trying to defend the territory as they could. He felt immense guilt at this idea and immediately put back his bottle and his apple on the table which sat between the two benches. The train came to a complete stop and chaos began in the corridor. The men had come out of their cabins singing and shouting victory while pressing one against the other. They were eager to join the crowd bath that continued to flow around the train. This was also the case for Alex and Tommy who pressed Gibson to stand up. "Come on bro let’s party now!" exclaimed Alex by pulling him by the arm.

It was with a ball in his throat that Gibson followed his comrades off the train. They were now in a small town that had obviously never received so many people at the same time. The houses were decrepit and seemed on the verge of collapse. Here and there one could observe piles of fresh earth resulting from the excavation necessary for the construction of bomb shelters. Progressively, a procession of soldiers surrounded by the local population had formed and was now heading towards what seemed to be the only hotel in the city. The cries of joy and the young women throwing themselves into the arms of the newcomers were plentiful. Gibson was following his two comrades, who had formed an all-female fan club. He avoided social interactions as much as possible in order to avoid tediously explaining that he was mute or even worse to have to speak. Gibson felt absolutely oppressed, impossible to communicate: every «Hurrah!» was experienced as an aggression. Soon however he found himself lying in the relative calm of a hotel room. He had not even been able to reject Susie – or Sophie he was not sure if he understood well her first name – who invited himself into the room. His two comrades were in the same room each well-accompanied and seemed quite comfortable. After all, the battle was over, you had to benefit from life as long as you could enjoy it. During the next few minutes, Gibson kept remembering France and his journey until that moment when he was naked with an unknown woman. His thoughts were troubled, torn between shame for running away and feeling extreme happiness after surviving this cursed beach. Then his two companions appeared above him and forced him to drink a full glass of whiskey from a draft. Everyone enjoyed unconsciously in this hotel room where fluids and spirits were now free from any constraint. In the evening, they were served a hearty meal in the large reception  
room arranged for the occasion. The meal ended, the festivities resumed and all were quickly drunk. Except Gibson. Now obsessed with his duty as a soldier, his pride as a young man in his twenties systematically sent him back to France. His two English comrades were now completely drunk and shouted at him utterly incomprehensible absurdities.

"Come on you filthy froggy! Drink with us!" exclaimed Alex. In the silence that followed, Tommy looked at his mate in a daze. Then, quickly regaining his senses, he handed Gibson his bottle by forcing himself to laugh. “Come on young man, drink now.” said Tommy to Gibson, insisting on the “now”. All of them in the inn laughed then and resumed their occupations. But this time it was too much for Gibson. When Alex accidentally revealed his identity in public his stomach had tied knots. He could not stay any longer in England, this evening at the bar was the proof that sooner or later his identity as a deserter would be revealed and this did not bode well. His conscience and his principles also prevented him from staying there. His decision was made. He would return to France to serve with his companions. No matter how hard it was to get there, he’d get out of the war on the right side. Determined, Gibson quietly slipped away from the bar and rushed towards the unknown in which the outer darkness bathed.


End file.
